Deserter at a Quarter Past Nine
by Ersuela
Summary: Suppose something else happened that day. The day Draco confronted Harry on the Hogwarts Express. Something a little darker and worse than a broken nose. SLASH. Possible spoiler. Other warnings inside.


**Note:** Sorry to those who reviewed previously. I had to delete and repost this story, because it wasn't appearing anywhere on the site. And then I also changed the title to something that was more fitting and whatnot. So, yeah. Sorry?

**Author's note: **Sooo, hey. Uh, this little fic was originally supposed to be an one-shot. Though it could possibly turn into a series. I really don't know at this point. I'm really no good at writing for the HP fandom, as I forget a lot of things and tend to make characters incredibly OOC. :( I lose, I know. Anyway, one-shot or not, I hope you enjoy!  
**Warning:** contains Draco/Harry slash and sorta, kinda a spoiler, also contains language, sexual themes, and a bit of non-con.  
**Summary:** Suppose something else happened that day. The day Draco confronted Harry on the Hogwarts Express. Something a little darker and worse than a broken nose.

**Quarter Past Nine  
**Written by Chelsey M.

_"Petrifucus Totalus!"_

One second, Harry had been stowed safely away inside the luggage rack above Crabbe, and the next second, he was sprawled on the ground. Right in front of Malfoy. Right by Malfoy, the fucking prat. Though he was petrified and couldn't very well move, he realized he no longer had the protection of the Invisibility Cloak that was previously keeping his lanky body hidden. He couldn't take his eyes off Malfoy. Malfoy. Goddamn Malfoy, with a dark smirk of satisfaction on his aristocratic features.

Faintly, Harry heard Draco ramble on about how he "saw something white flash through the air right after Zabini came back."

Draco's smirk turned into a triumphant smile with every word he smoke.

Harry just glared. Locking brilliant green eyes on the clasp that fastened Draco's traveling coat to his neck and body. He wasn't going to look Draco in the eye. Not now. Not after he had just completely embarrassed himself in front of his enemy. Though he had a feeling he might've been demeaning himself, he kept his eyes on that silver clasp. That silver clasp that probably cost more than the damn cloak itself. Was it really necessary? A button really would have the same effect. Though, of course, this was Malfoy he was referring to. A button wouldn't look nearly as impressive as a silver clasp.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter," Harry heard Draco drawl smoothly. "But while I've got you here..."

Instantly, Harry's eyes snapped to Draco's smug face. And his eyes. His transparent, glowing eyes. He didn't like the look on his face at all. Not one bit. He didn't like anything about it, and Draco could tell this. Draco could tell this, as he knelt beside the petrified Gryffindor. Draco could tell this, as he grasped Harry's chin between his long, slim fingers that were fit for a pianist. Briefly, Harry wondered if the blonde boy really did play the piano. Or maybe another instrument? Then, as Draco stood and straightened himself again, Harry remembered that he had more important things at hand.

Like trying to get himself out of this particular mess, for instance.

"You really cause so many problems for me, you know," Draco continued coolly, absent-mindedly running a hand through his hair. "It's getting pretty annoying - how you make such a fool out of me sometimes. It gets really annoying, in fact."

Harry could only stare up at him. Helpless. Completely. Helpless.

Once again, Draco knelt beside him - but not before removing his robes and cloak _and _rolling up the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt he wore underneath it all. Instantly, Harry felt a twinge of panic ignite itself in the pit of his stomach. Just exactly what was Draco planning for him? Was there really any need to take off both the robes and the cloak? And roll up the sleeves of his shirt? It was almost like Draco was afraid of getting dirty. Or of getting something on him. But what? Blood? Alarmed, Harry tried to see if Draco had a knife on him. But there was nothing. Just Draco's tall, lithe form - which was looming over him in a rather ominous fashion.

Suddenly, Harry Potter felt very, very small.

"Maybe it's time for me to make a fool out of you?" Draco asked softly, to no one in particular. "Yes, I think that'll do."

Without speaking another word, Draco tugged Harry's shirt over his head. In an almost graceful-like manner, he tore the shirt in half, before tearing one remaining half yet again. When he was finished, he had three pieces of Harry's shirt resting in his pale hands. Harry's eyes narrowed, and he tried to make a sound of disapproval in the back of his throat, to no avail. He couldn't speak at all, and he was still extremely confused. Was Draco trying to corner him? Trying to make him more vulnerable than he already was? He didn't understand.

Carefully, Draco leant back and retrieved his wand from his robe pocket, then wrapped his hand around Harry's neck in a firm, tight grip. _What's he trying to do?_ Harry thought, panic flaring inside him once more. _Kill me? _The dark-haired boy tried to desperately think of a way to get Draco off of him and away - or to at least get his hand away from his neck. But he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate with his air supply cut off so abruptly. In a matter of seconds, he felt rather light-headed. Light-headed and sort of... euphoric. Euphoric in a way where he thought it was sort of pathetic and amusing how he was going to die like this. How the "boy who lived" was going to die of suffocation. At Draco Malfoy's hand.

But then, suddenly, the pressure at his neck was gone, and he was gasping for air once more. Vaguely, he felt a tug on his arms and wrists, then on his legs and feet, though his mind hadn't yet regained control and could not process what was going on. Once his brain cleared, however, he realized that Malfoy had tied his wrists together above his head and had tied his ankles together. He also noticed that he was no longer petrified. But a lot that was going to do him now, considering he was goddamn tied up. He could talk now, though. He could scream for help. Scream long, loud, and hard. Scream 'til someone heard him - from either outside the train or from inside it. That didn't really matter. As long as someone came to his rescue. Anyone. Hell, he'd be glad to see even Snape or Umbridge.

And just as he opened his mouth, just as he prepared himself for a hell of a lot of screaming, Draco's hand quickly covered it. Preventing him from really making any sound at all, except for a muffled groan of defeat.

"Do you think I'm stupid, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, rolling his eyes. "What do you think the third piece of _your _shirt is for?"

Harry's eyes automatically widened.

Malfoy was going to _gag_ him? He had to be kidding. This was something straight out of a horror movie. Only less scary, since Draco wasn't a very intimidating figure in the first place. Unless he was towering over you with a nasty little gleam in his eye. Then, and only then, was he just a tad bit nerve-wracking.

Once Draco had the piece of cloth tied around Harry's head and had the cloth inside his mouth, he pulled back and eyed his handiwork for a moment.

"That about ruins all your plans of escaping, doesn't it?" Draco said, flicking his nose. "I've already locked the door to this compartment and pulled the blinds, so no one's really going to catch us. Does this scare you?"

Again, Harry only glared.

Smirking, Draco leant over Harry's struggling form and put both hands on his shoulders, pinning him to the carpeted ground. Harry froze. Did Malfoy really find it necessary to actually touch him? Apparently he did, as he slowly ran his cool hands down his arms, looking rather contemplative as he did so.

"You know," he started, brushing his thumb over Harry's collarbone. "For a Quidditch player, you're rather thin. I would think you'd have at least some muscle on you. I still have the clear advantage over you, don't I?"

Harry could've snorted and was tempted to remind Malfoy of all the times _he_ had put him in his place. But when he spoke, his words came out something more like: "FEopejfdsome fder gr fdcgerf, Lkfoy."

"Oh, sorry, I didn't quite catch that, Potter," Draco murmured, looking distracted. "Your body is pretty, though. I'm sure many could appreciate it. Too bad."

The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow, staring up at Draco in a completely incredulous way. What the _hell _kind of game was Draco trying to play? And if it wasn't a game, then exactly what was he getting at? Or what was he trying to do? But, honestly, Harry didn't think he had a "pretty" body. He had a nice body, he thought haughtily. A guy's body. He just had high metabolism and burned off fat quickly. It wasn't his fault he didn't have more muscle. Anyway, it wasn't like Draco was extremely built, too. He was just as lithe as Harry was.

And, besides, he didn't see Draco taking off his clothes. Chances were, he was probably MORE slender than Harry.

When Harry felt a hot mouth and tongue on the side of his neck, his brain snapped back to attention and reality again. Malfoy was leaning over him, hands on either side of his head, trailing patterns on his throat with lips that burned holes into his skin. Harry stopped struggling almost immediately, and his eyes went wide once more. After a second, Draco pulled back and licked the corner of his mouth, almost smugly. The expression on Harry's face only seemed to amuse him, not falter him in his actions, and the dark-haired teen's confusion mounted.

"Imagine if I fucked you, Potter," he whispered, voice low and dangerous as his eyes locked with Harry's. "Imagine if everyone knew. I fucked Harry Potter. The "chosen one." The boy-who-fucking-lived. What would they say then?"

This time, Harry didn't glare. He just looked at him, blinking repeatedly, feeling the icy ship of dread plummet to the bottom of his already twisted stomach. Malfoy wasn't serious. He had to be kidding.

_Don't fuck with me like this._ Harry thought, digging his nails into the palms of his clenched fists. _Don't fuck with my head like this. This isn't fair. This isn't funny. This isn't fucking fair._

"I wonder if you'd have all those girls flocking around you then?" Draco mused, tapping his finger against his chin. "If they found out you were a fag. A queer. Who got fucked up the ass by Draco fucking Malfoy. Would they like you so much?"

Harry let out a small growl and started struggling again.

Draco scoffed and ran his fingers through Harry's dark hair. "You know, they probably would. Apparently, you can do nothing wrong."

Yeah, right. Malfoy obviously knew nothing about him, or his "fans." He practically shared a love/hate relationship with those people, or rather, they shared a one-sided love/hate relationship with him.

"I'm not going to fuck you, though," Draco stated airily. "Do you really think I'd do something that disgusting? No, I have something different in mind. Something around the same genre, but it doesn't involve me sticking my dick up your pathetic, non-existent little ass."

Much like he did before, the Slytherin moved back away from Harry to retrieve something from the pocket of his robes. This time, it was a pair of gloves. Clear, plastic gloves that reminded Harry of hospitals and doctors. With great ease, he slid the gloves onto his hands, before proceeding to pull Harry's jeans and underclothes down to his ankles. If possible, Harry's eyes widened even more. He supposed that he was starting to look like a deer caught in the headlights, as terribly cliché as that might've been. But, really, who could've blamed him? Here he was, naked and completely vulnerable, right beneath Malfoy's grasp. No one would have wanted to be in this position. Except, maybe, Pansy Parkinson. But she was a stupid twat, anyway.

Harry tried to make another noise of protest as Draco's hands descended on his body, trailing down his sides and sending little jolts of electricity rocketing up his spine. The dark-haired teen nearly went numb, and his body tensed at the soft caresses Malfoy was showering down on his unsuspecting frame. As much as he hated that Malfoy was touching him in such a way, he had never felt anything like it. It sort of felt good, in an odd way. But that didn't mean it was any better. It was still Malfoy. Still Malfoy, who was obviously up to no damn good. Who was obviously working for Voldemort. Who was obviously following in his daddy's footsteps.

No. This was no good. No good at all.

Malfoy's hand drifted down, over his hipbone, to gently stroke and squeeze his member. This certain action not only caused Harry to tense even more, but an instant flush made his way up into his cheeks and he arched into the blonde's touch. Another arrogant smirk graced Malfoy's features, and he immediately pulled his hand away.

"You're just like all the other sluts I've been with," he said coldly, moving in front of Harry and grabbing his thighs. "Desperate for more attention, are you, Potter? And you claim you're not a fag."

At those words, Harry bit down hard on the gag and narrowed his gaze sharply on the little bastard that was antagonizing him. Though he was trying to look like none of this mattered, his breathing was becoming a bit more labored. Draco noticed this, as he noticed most of these things. He was good at deciphering fear, hesitance, in another person's eyes. Draco supposed he had inherited this from his father, and he probably did. He inherited most things from his father. His temper, his sharp features, his distinctive personality. All from Lucius Malfoy.

Not that he could complain. Though he loved his mother very much, she had always been a tad bit weaker than he'd like to be. Emotionally, anyway.

And that would never do, as Draco wanted power. He wanted control. Over people in general. He wanted to be able to walk into a room and have every single person stand and tremble in nervous anticipation. He wanted raw power over those that surrounded him. Over the weak, the strong, the meek, the timid, and the bold. He wanted power, because power defined the epitome of those who were unmistakably strong. He wanted power, and he wanted control, and he wanted everything. He wanted forever.

Harry Potter was, indeed, forever. A forever that survived the most terrible curse of all. A forever that was golden in his age. A forever that was deemed unbreakable. And he would, he _would_, control him. He would control forever.

Falling silent, Draco pushed Harry's legs up towards his chest. Upon doing this, the Gryffindor struggled even more, attempting to kick Draco away.

"If you keep doing that," Draco sighed, holding onto his legs tighter, "I'll just petrify you again."

Automatically, Harry fell still, and Draco smiled a smile that few would ever want to witness.

"I sort of want to see you cry, Potter," Draco said, letting go of his legs and resting a hand on his bared ass. "Can you even cry?"

Harry shuddered and made another noise against the gag.

"Or whimper," he continued, squeezing his ass hard. "Can you whimper?"

Frantically, Harry shook his head so hard that his glasses slid down to the tip of his nose.

"Nonsense. I'm sure you can," he said lightly, removing Harry's glasses from his nose and tossing them aside. They hit the wall of the compartment with a soft thud, before clattering to the ground. Harry wondered vaguely if he had lost a lens.

Stroking the side of Harry's ass with one hand, he used two fingers from his other hand to press against Harry's entrance and gently rub. Moaning in both frustration and unwanted pleasure, Harry turned his head to the side and closed his eyes tight. Malfoy had to be fucking kidding. This couldn't possibly be happening. Not to him. Not right now. Seriously, did he ever get a goddamn break? He was also starting to wonder why the train hadn't started moving again. Just his luck. Just his damn, damn luck.

Suddenly and a little randomly (at least to Harry), Draco roughly pushed two fingers into him. The Gryffindor hissed in pain and jerked away, with tears springing to his eyes and threatening to spill. Draco didn't seem to notice and thrust his fingers in harder, pushing his legs back more. This hurt, as well. His back was beginning to ache and his legs were becoming numb. Again, Draco didn't notice his discomfort and pain. Then again, figured Harry rather angrily and bitterly, maybe he did notice and just didn't fucking care.

_Of course he doesn't care, you twit!_ the reasonable side of Harry's brain snapped.

_Right._ Harry thought, miserably.

"I see I've managed to sort of make you cry," Draco noted, glancing up to his face and grinding his fingers into the trembling body of Harry. "But I'm still waiting for that whimper."

Biting down onto his gag harder, Harry jerked again, breathing hard through his nose. It didn't hurt as much as it was humiliating, and frankly, that pissed him off. And then, right there and then, Harry decided that--after he had gotten away--he was going to beat the _shit _out of Malfoy.

Draco pressed his lips against the inside of Harry's thigh, nipping hard, before thrusting a third finger into him. Harry made a small noise in the back of his throat, arching his back in a pathetic attempt to rid himself of the horrible intrusion inside his body. Slightly horrified by the fact that certain parts of his body were actually enjoying this, Harry squirmed and tried to scoot back away from Malfoy. Draco was ready for this, and his only response to it was to grab Harry's ankle and yank him back.

"I'm finished, anyway," Draco muttered, pulling his fingers out of him. "I figure I'll just leave you like this. I suppose I can always muster a whimper from you another time."

Harry's eyes narrowed again, his chest heaving dramatically.

"Oh, I know you won't tell, Potter," he said, snorting and standing up. "Really, that would only be a mistake on your part. Sure, I may get in trouble. But imagine the humiliation you'll face from our fellow peers? Would you really want that?"

Grinding his teeth, Harry looked away from Draco.

"Didn't think so," Malfoy said casually, pulling on his robes and cloak again.

A tense silence fell upon the room, with most of the tension coming from Harry himself. Malfoy just stood and looked down at him, though it was like he really wasn't LOOKING at him. He seemed a bit out of it, maybe lost in thought. Harry didn't know, and he really didn't want to know, anyway. If Draco was fucked up enough to do the crazy shit he just did, Harry really didn't want to see the thoughts that ran wild in his head.

Harry didn't notice Draco take out his wand again, nor did he notice him muttering a spell beneath his breath. He only noticed that Draco had petrified him yet again when he felt his whole body freeze.

"You know," Draco started, kneeling beside him and removing the gag and bonds, "I have a better idea."

Carefully, Draco lined up the three pieces of the shirt on the ground beside Harry, before tapping them with his wand and saying, "Reparo." After the shirt put itself back together, the blonde picked it up and (with some difficulty) managed to get it over Harry's head. Then, not speaking, he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from underneath him and stuck it in his own robe pocket. Hurriedly and roughly, he pulled Harry's pants back up, before standing and looking rather satisfied with himself.

"I'll see you around, Potter," he said, grinning in a way only Draco can grin.

Without another word, Draco brought his foot down on Harry's face, smashing his nose in. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw the blood spurt from his assaulted nose and could feel it drip from his face. If Harry could've screamed, he would have. But the only screaming he could manage was the one in his head. Lost in pain, Harry barely noticed as Draco unlocked the compartment door and left the train.

It felt like he was lying there for hours, though he knew it could have only been several minutes. He was about to give up all hope, when a familiar voice rang in his ear and brought him hurtling back to the reality he didn't want to be in anymore.

"Wotcher, Harry."

Staring into the face of Tonks, the dark-haired Gryffindor delved into an unconsciousness that was far from pleasant.

**End.**

**End note:** Okay, so. Yeah. Reviews would be much appreciated. ;)


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